


Not Yet

by Zoelily



Series: Cockles Moments [14]
Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Cockles feels, Coda, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Sex, Endings Are Hard, M/M, SDCC2019
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-24
Updated: 2019-07-24
Packaged: 2020-07-19 05:29:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19968808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zoelily/pseuds/Zoelily
Summary: The last appearance for the Supernatural cast at San Diego Comic-Con 2019 makes for a long, exhausting day filled with emotional ups and downs. When Jensen and Misha make it back to Vancouver, much later that night, some of those emotions bubble to the surface.





	Not Yet

**Author's Note:**

> Along with all of you, I've been spellbound at the coverage of SDCC. My emotions are all over the place and seeing our boys react so strongly only makes me more emo. I wrote this while watching Jensen and Misha interact on stage. They're always aware of each other's moods and physical space. It's fascinating to watch the dance they do in public, trying to avoid falling into what seems to be such natural habits. Anyway, I digress...this came from my take of those moments and my mood at the time. Thanks to the wonderful, [FieryAngel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FieryAngel/works) for the speedy beta. Enjoy.

The first firm press of Misha’s thumbs into his tense shoulder blades has Jensen crying out in pain. He’s wound up like a spring that could uncoil at the slightest provocation even though he’s dead on his feet. Misha’s suggestion of a massage almost immediately after dropping their bags at Jensen’s — their — apartment door had been Jensen’s undoing. It’s been a fuck of a long day.  
  
“Sorry’,” Misha mumbles, but Jensen knows he’s not. Not really. 

The intense pressure on his back evens out as Misha sets a rhythm; less intense. Misha has their ‘after dinner and a glass of wine’ playlist shuffling on Spotify and the lights are dimmed. Jensen can smell the lavender and chamomile in the essential oil Misha’s using to massage into his tight muscles. 

Misha is straddled just above Jensen’s ass wearing only those ridiculous orange boxer briefs with the geckos on them, reaching forward with those fucking tree-truck arms, and using his entire upper body to press into Jensen’s back. Jensen has his head turned to the side, and from his peripheral, he can just see the vision Misha makes. His cock is finding a modicum of friction against the sheets as Misha keeps a natural rhythm going while he turns Jensen’s muscles to jelly.

The floating is comfortable, relaxing, slightly arousing but not frustratingly so. Misha pauses at his aching lumbar spine, just edging the waistband of his briefs before he breaks their peaceful silence.  
  
“I don’t know what I expected from today but that wasn’t it.”  
  
Jensen gets that, he really does. Today was the first of so many lasts and the anticipation of it was almost worse than the event itself in the end, but his own overly emotional reaction on stage was unexpected. The seating wasn’t accidental. His friends had needed his stoic strength today and he’d ended up leaning on them just as much or more. Turns out, even the tiniest hint at losing the tight family he’s gained through the show gives him anxiety. 

He nods, sliding his cheek against the familiar pillow and reaches back to grasp Misha’s fingers. Misha slots them through his own with one hand, silky slick from the essential oils, his other hand rubbing slow circles into Jensen’s back — no longer a massage, just a grounding touch.  
  
When Misha tugs his shoulder, Jensen rolls over onto his side with Misha tucked snugly behind him. Misha is still roaming his hands along his slightly ticklish sides and rubbing his errant curls against his neck. It’s not helping with the simmering arousal that’s been continually present since they first walked in the room. Jensen chooses to ignore it for now in favor of continuing their conversation. It’s a lot easier to admit his weaknesses when he’s looking at his window blinds instead of intense blue eyes.   
  
“We were joking around before the panel about trying not to cry, but I didn’t think I really would,” Jensen says. “That’s just not me.”  
  
“I know you don’t actually go for all that toxic masculinity bullshit that tells boys from when they’re babies that men should never cry?  
  
“Fuck no, Mish, I’ve just never been much of a crier, I guess. I mean, I tear up here and there, and I can bring it in a big way if I’m told to but I rarely cry outside of work. Today surprised me, is all.”  
  
Misha stops his exploration and kisses Jensen three times on the shoulder. “It was an emotionally charged room and Jared and I were already upset. It’s bound to hit you and overflow eventually, love.”  
  
Jensen is grateful for Misha’s attention to what he needs in the moment. He feels like he belongs cocooned in his lover’s warmth. He understands what Misha’s saying. He fully expects to be upset and emotional, he just didn’t expect it so soon. They just started shooting last week.  
  
“I’m just not ready,” he says in a whisper. “Not yet.”  
  
Jensen feels Misha’s hold around him tighten. He feels Misha's lips press against the oily skin on his upper back, and he feels Misha’s muscular legs capture his in a comfortable tangle. Misha whispers, “You’re not doing this alone, J.”

Jensen hums into Misha’s embrace. He feels on edge, but yet safe, like he’s allowed to be not one hundred percent okay right now. He shouldn’t need to have to give himself permission to let his guard down, but somehow he does, and more often than not, he’s with Misha when he does it. 

“You and Jared and have built the impossible here,” Misha says with awe from where his chin is tucked into Jensen’s shoulder. “You have to let yourself soak up every amazing part of what this last season will bring but you also have to allow yourself the time to grieve for it.”

He nods because, yeah, Misha’s right, but he’s still hung up on the first part. He squeezes Misha’s hand. “You’ve been as much a part of creating this family as we have, more so in some ways.”

Misha chuckles and tickle-kisses Jensen between the shoulder blades. “I just play games with the fans to get them to do my bidding.”

Misha’s recycled joke rubs Jensen the wrong way. It’s just like Misha to shove his shitty sense of self-worth behind a self-deprecating barb. The man’s a real-life angel to everyone but himself and Jensen hates that he doesn’t see it. He rolls onto his back so he can see Misha’s face. This is the first thing he’s said tonight he needs eye contact for. 

“That has to stop, Mish.” 

At the look of confusion in Misha’s eyes, deep blue and glistening in the dim Vancouver night, Jensen reaches to cup Misha’s worried face with his palm. “You mean so much more than you realize, to so many, present company included.” 

Misha’s eyes light up, the love flowing from them visible even in darkness. The crinkles around his eyes and the brightness of his smile. A sincere compliment goes a long way with Misha Collins. 

“You have every reason to be proud of what you’ve accomplished here,” Jensen says, enjoy it a little. 

Misha is looking at him stunned. It’s clearly taking a moment for Jensen’s words to kick in.

“Okay,” he finally says with a soft smile and a lean into Jensen’s touch. 

“Okay? Really?” Jensen asks, apprehension clear in his tone. 

“I’ll try,” Misha promises while drawing a cross over Jensen’s heart. “But I’m a creature of habit.”

Jensen draws Misha in for a kiss, wanting to thank this beautiful man for hearing him this time, sure in his promise to at least try and take compliments with grace and allow himself the credit and accolades he so rightfully deserves. They take their time lazily feasting on each other’s lips, just enjoying the slow pace. 

“I assume you did enjoy some parts of today?” Misha asks, midway through licking slowly across Jensen’s clavicle.

Jensen can answer that easily, even with Misha continuing his oral exploration of his chest. 

“Most of it was awesome! Comic-Con is always a good time. The signings were fun and the interviews and photoshoots are always hoot.” He takes a deep breath. “It’s fucking exhausting, but it’s great.”

Jensen can feel the bone-deep exhaustion infiltrating his body but it’s not enough to take away from the heat that’s simmering low in his belly from the rapt attention Misha is currently paying to his nipples. He shifts back onto his side, wanting to feel Misha’s solid weight behind him, wrapped perfectly around him. Tonight they’re together and Comic-Con and Supernatural and the rest of the world can just go away. 

This time, Jensen lets his arousal loose. He can feel Misha’s semi pressed into his backside and it’s reminding him that he’s been at half-mast for over an hour and Misha’s mostly naked, beautiful, pliable body is currently pressed against his own. He cants his hips — just enough for Misha clothed cock to ride his cotton-covered ass perfectly, just enough to get Misha on board. Jensen needs to make it perfectly clear.   
  
“Need you.”  
  
Misha doesn’t need telling twice. His tanned, muscular arms surround Jensen as he pushes himself into Jensen’s space, getting him fully naked, pushing his knee up to his chin, and settling behind him. Jensen is fully hard now. Misha may be the shorter of the two of them, but he takes up so much more space in a room. When he takes control, Jensen gets to just fly free and it’s the most amazing feeling in the world.  
  
When Misha’s fingers finally breach him, Jensen is already red and glistening from the attention to his nipples, his hip bones, his thighs, and his ass, which Misha is still grasping with his full hand while he slides two well-lubed fingers inside Jensen’s hole just the way he knows Jensen likes it. Just on the good side of rough. Jensen can feel himself want to bear down on Misha’s fingers on the first thrust, he’s so incredibly turned on.  
  
“Fuck, baby,” Misha stammers. “You’re so fucking wild already.”  
  
Jensen can hear the hitch in Misha’s voice and it makes him flush even more knowing how much this is affecting him. “Join the party, Mish,” Jensen says lewdly, grinding his hips down onto Misha’s fingers, groaning at the feeling of ‘shit that feels good but damn it’s not enough’.

Misha doesn’t waste any time after that and it’s not long before Jensen demands more than just fingers. He needs Misha. “Please, baby,” he calls out, not even caring. Misha knows anyway.  
  
Misha’s right there at his back, pressing kisses into his hairline, running his calloused fingertips down the thigh that's lifted high to expose his waiting hole. Misha crowds behind him and positions his perfect uncut cock at Jensen’s entrance and pushes inside.  
  
“Mish!” Jensen calls out in awe. Every time their bodies meet, he’s still stunned by the intensity of that first moment of connection. It feels so important. The feeling of fullness intensifies as Misha keeps pressing in behind and above him, filling him, completing him, and joining with him in this amazing way. Once Misha bottoms out with a sigh, he holds still for a few moments to let Jensen get used to the stretch.  
  
Jensen suddenly feels this ball of emotion want to explode its way out of his head. He has this realization that he is just as scared of how things will change with his and Misha’s relationship once the show is over.  
  
“I’m not ready,” he blurts out.” starting to shiver.  
  
“Hey, hey,” Misha says nervously, rubbing Jensen’s arms trying to keep his lower body completely still. “I’m not gonna move until you’re ready, or I can stop if —”

“No, no,” Jensen quickly interrupts, “It’s not that. Its just...I’m not ready to lose this, Misha. Not yet.” Tears are starting to well and he can’t help it. He’s glad Misha isn’t facing him. Why is he being such a fucking baby today?  
  
“Misha curls up against him as best as he can in the position they’re currently in and kisses Jensen’s hair. “You’re not gonna lose me. We’ve talked about this, J. We’re not planning on changing our relationship after the show ends.”  
  
Jensen sighs. “Yeah, but we both know it’s gonna change. It has to, and I just realized that I’m not ready to face the reality of that any more than I am the fact that the show is ending, and everything that goes along with it.”  
  
Jensen feels Misha start to move, just a soft roll of his hips sending a spark of life back into Jensen’s neglected cock. He wants to latch on to that sensation. He wants to grab onto it and never let it go. Misha pulls out halfway and thrusts back in, keeping his arm wrapped around Jensen’s thigh so he doesn’t get tired of holding it up and giving himself something to thrust against.  
  
“I love you, Jensen Ackles,” Misha says just before rolling his hips again, setting a quiet rhythm of hard thrusts and sinuous rolls. “That isn’t going to change.” 

Misha picks up the pace while Jensen wraps his hand around his own cock, nearly losing it at the sensation of something, anything finally touching his heated skin. Misha is still whispering earnestly in his ear.  
  
“We don’t have to worry about anything else.” Misha fucks into him like it’s the only thing in the world that matters, and in this moment, it is. “Not yet.” 

Jensen whines as Misha’s words wash around him, surrounding him in a cool calm that’s in complete contrast to the rapidly engulfing heat in his belly. He doubles his efforts on his dick, fucking into his fist hard enough to feel the pop when the head of his cock slips through his thumb and forefinger, the glide slickened just enough by how much he’s leaking and the intensity increased by the friction of the sheets. He body thrums with arousal every time Misha’s masculine body curls exactly right and jams his prostate, while his lips still continue to fill Jensen’s ear with perfect words.

“You look perfect like this, my love,” Misha purrs into his hair. “All golden skin and freckles, riding my cock and fucking your fist. You make me think such depraved things.” Misha tugs at his earlobe with his teeth and Jensen cries out. He’s close and he wants Misha right there when he comes. 

“Mish,” he pants, “My Dmitri.” Jensen shoves his ass back up against Misha’s body wantonly, “Do it. Give me what you’ve got.”

Misha’s hand clamps down on his thigh and he shoves Jensen’s leg up as high as he knows Jensen can comfortable handle. In the next faltering breath, he pounds into Jensen giving him exactly what he wanted. 

“You close, baby?” Misha pants between thrusts, rhythmically hitting Jensen’s prostate and peppering open-mouthed kissing over his oil and sweat glistened back. 

Jensen is right on the edge and all it takes is Misha to reach around and add his hand over Jensen’s and squeeze and Jensen is gone. Misha follows him over until they’re both just a puddle of sweat, jizz, and tangled limbs, trying to ride the wave of endorphins and return their breathing back to normal. 

Jensen is aware that the drying crust of cum on his belly is pretty disgusting and the stuff leaking out his ass is probably even worse. Thing is, Misha Collins is snoring softly in his ear and is he willing to give that up right now? Is he willing to uncurl from these tree-trunk arms that are currently wrapped around him, promising to stick around no matter what, promising to walk a little taller because he asked? Jensen doesn’t even have to think about the answer as he cuddles in closer. 

“Not yet.” 

  



End file.
